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Sure, Yuliya might have skipped a day of work at the insurance company, but that hasn't stopped her from dropping by Mutant Town. Sure, the place might be run down and full with mutants, but it gives her an escape and a place to kind of blend into things. Of course that doesn't mean that she's not armed in some fashion or another. She carries one of the Brotherhood posters with her, that had been torn down by someone, and arches a brow. It's possible that she hasn't heard of the movement so far.
Julie is, presently, standing on one foot and covering her eyes. Lofts a dart toward the dartboard sideways and perhaps remarkably, nearly hits the center, but it's in the one-point wedge by an inch. Peers and laughs, to a cluster of mutant kids around, "Awright, this one's on me, then." She waves and yeah-yeahs to various commentary as she makes her way to the counter, coming alongside Yuliya as she comes in with the poster. Eyes the thing, considering, perhaps for a second or third time, the poster. "Those guys. Thought they was laying low just lately, after… some stuff. Kinda been a neighborhood watch around here, …I dunno why they'd print posters that look like they don't know whether to be Commie or Japanese like that though." She seems to ponder this, and says to the barkeep, putting a few one dollar bills on the table, "I guess a pitcher for William Tell and the guys over there and another glass for me, Bob."
Yuliya does glance up towards the dart game, and she purses her lips and looks back down towards the poster again. With Julie's commentry, she does look thoughtful and it takes her a few seconds to process the information. "No star, no hammer and sickle. No open book," she replies, as she shakes her head. "Not communist at all. I do not know about Japanese though." She purses her lips and looks thoughtful. "What type of group were they? Aggressive? Militant? Pacifist?" She still seems confused by the poster that she brought in. "To me, I would think more aggressive. Closed fist." The Slav takes a deep breath, and once Julie's placed her order, she then places her own. Strangely beer.
Julie ahs. "Eh, clenched fists raised like that usually mean like, resolve, people standing up. Design still looks pretty Commie, though, could be just someone trying to start trouble. Brotherhood's, well, …they generally don't pull punches and as far as I know, they don't advertise, and it's a neighborhood thing. This could be someone just trying to set Mutant Town up, ain't the first time the bad guys dropped propaganda around the place trying to make headlines."
Yuliya wrinkles her nose and takes a deep breath. "Hopefully it is not the intentions of anyone," she remarks softly. "I think most of the people I talk to outside of work are gifted in someway." She clicks her tongue twice, and then turns to face Julie more. "I can understand why people would form groups like the Brotherhood. People turn their backs on things they do not understand, and chase phantoms. Like Yankees chasing communist ghosts."
Julie sips her beer, and points to the poster, fishing out a cigarette from a pack of Chesterfields she takes from a pocket. "I dunno, …I guess maybe all the posters look like that where you grew up, but the average American looks at that, they're gonna get the message there's this group of mutants that's the Soviet Union, the Nips that killed their buddies or Papas in the Pacific, and rioting Negroes all in one. Sure don't make sense to *me,* anyhow. The Brotherhood already knows this neighborhood, they don't have to take out ads, know what I mean?" Dizzy sighs, a little. "Anyway, you probably know certain types out there was trying to get all, what do you call it, paranoid, about everyone in Hollywood being Commies, when I was in bobbie-socks, actually, and that's exactly what I'm saying here." She taps the poster, and lights her ciggy. "This is someone trying to pick a fight, right here. And most of the people that live here ain't fighters, they's just trying to live, so who's putting this up?"
Yuliya slowly shakes her head. "Nyet, not like that. We had pictures of people like Comrades Lenin and Stalin. The country side, as well as posters of the workers and the military." She then offers a laugh. "It honestly looks Yankee made to me." She arches her brows and looks surprised for some reason. "They think people in Hollywood are communist? If that were true, why was I not told I could make big money acting when I come to the country? I could of had a big house with fancy car." She's smiling as she says that, and it might have been an attempt at a joke. "Most of the people here are good people. I like them a lot. If someone is out to cause problems, then maybe I will set up my stall here during the day and see what I can see and find out."
Julie laughs. "I think you actually need some talent for the what's-their face, that Nixon guy's pal McCarthy, to get everyone worried you're infiltrating the country. But you never know, maybe you could be a star, half the people in LA are trying," she winks. "Eh, anyway, you don't get it, it's the style of the thing, as those posters go. Nobody's gonna know or care what Commies think Commie stuff looks like, it's what Americans think Commie stuff looks like, and that's it. So, you gotta wonder who actually thinks that's a good idea." She puffs on her smoke. "And, they *are* good people here. And they's the ones that get hurt when someone brings trouble *here.* That's why this don't seem right. Maybe I'll do a bit of asking around, myself, but you don't know who that really is."
"I write home, I ask family to send communist badge to me. I wear badge, I become a celebrity," Yuliya replies with a grin. She takes a deep pull from her beer and wrinkles her nose a little bit. "Or I get beaten up and arrested by CIA and FBI. I do not like beatings, so I do not think I will become actress in Hollywood. I will stay in insurance." She offers a nod of her head at that. "Let us say, you were going to design a banner for a group, what would you make it look like?" She then offers a little shrug of her shoulders and then frowns softly. "Do not go getting yourself hurt or killed when you do it, Dizzy. You are right, I do not know who they really are, and I guess you are one of the gifted people, so you can get a lot closer than me."
Julie smirks, "Says who, I'm just in the neighborhood sometimes," she says, and pours on a bit of extra Italian when she gestures to the barkeep, "Lookit this guy, who'd ever want a Schaeffer poured by any other big fat mitts, by the stars and moon!" She actually verges into Italian for the last bit, and ducks a smirkingly-tossed damp bar rag from Bob on that point. Well, that's one way to dodge a question, too. She looks over to Yuliya, though, and says. "What I do, is fix things, generally. Means I seen what gets broken around here. That Brotherhood goes too far sometimes, if you asked me, but they generally ain't tried painting any more a target on this neighborhood than someone else already did." She quiets, a little, "And when people come rolling in here like the Klan and the Nazis rolled into one, it really don't matter if you got gifts or something crippling or just happen to be here or love your kids, they done massacres here, and one thing you could say for that Brotherhood is they don't mind fighting. They just usually ain't in the business of making it easy for the freaking Daily Bugle to say that's just good Americans fighting some mutant Commie menace."
"Blyat!" Yuliya cries in protest at the damp rag that's thrown in Julie's direction and she clumsily gets out of the way. "Cyka blyat!" She quickly brushes down her suit, making certain that nothing has touched it at all. She then laughs and moves back to the counter. "Tovarishch," she says as she looks towards Julie. "Do not get that worried. Maybe they have changed how they are? Maybe they are going to try and improve things instead of violence?" She purses her lips and then smiles. "I have heard of the Bugle." She purses her lips. "If you want to find out more, I will ask my friend Katyusha to help you."
Julie nods, "Guess we could all ask around a bit. Just don't take no wooden nickels!" She raises her glass, then at some needling from the direction of the dart board, calls out, "What are you lookin at!" Banter ensues.